


Red Wine and Blood

by VidiaStark



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blood and Violence, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VidiaStark/pseuds/VidiaStark
Summary: A clash of authority between two powerful individuals leads to an unexpected end.
Relationships: Jericho Swain/Vladimir
Comments: 21
Kudos: 49
Collections: League of Legends





	1. Introduction

Wind rustling through the trees, a murder of crows cawing in the background, the sound of war horns and shouting of soldiers practicing their sparring, all typical sounds for Noxus.

The Grand General rested back against his chair, more of a throne wrought from metal and deep, rich mahogany. Extra…though a touch of luxury never hurt anyone. A servant stumbled into the room with a letter, fumbling over excuses for their interruption, their incompetence, words ignored by a simple wave of the General’s hand. A low bow, the exchange of parchment, and the servant was sent scurrying back to whatever corner they’d crawled out from.

Beatrice, his favourite raven, monstrous in her size and murderous in her strength, cawed loudly from her perch. The Grand General sighed. It had taken a while to find the bird amongst the swarm, and sometimes even now it seemed as though she may not have been worth the time it took to do so. So disruptive…

Another caw had him looking over at the bird cautiously. “Whatever you need, Beatrice, I’m sure a servant can fetch it for you.”

Another angry caw. The Grand General rubbed his temples, irked. The voices in his head combined with the constant disruption of the raven were beginning to drive him mad.

Attempting to ignore the bird for now, Swain carefully picked up the letter the servant had delivered, ripping the top of the envelope open with a single claw from his demon hand. The enclosed parchment was aromatic, releasing the sharp and acidic scent of pomegranates and blood upon its release. Swain fought the urge to roll his eyes. This was the work of his Hemomancer, most certainly. An invitation to dinner, to discuss war plans over fine dining. The entire motive seemed unclear, however the blood mage was known for dramatics…

Turning to the clock, the Grand General noted the invitation was extremely last-minute, leaving him a mere two hours to both prepare _and_ travel to the Hemomancer's estate. There was minimal time to waste. Crafting a quick response, the Grand General clicked his tongue, drawing the massive raven down from her perch at last. Handing her the scroll, he gave a clear order. “To Vladimir. Then return.”

Beatrice picked up the scroll in her talons releasing another sharp sound before extending her wings and soaring out the open window. With the invitation accepted and the message on its way, the Grand General swept his desk clear and headed out of the office. It was time to prepare.

~~~

Vladimir rested in his manor, the crimson tinted windows combined with the afternoon sun rays casting the entire sitting room into a crimson glow. An inferno roared in the fireplace, heating the room to a comfortable temperature, attempting to calm the Hemomancer’s growing annoyance. His servants were so irksome, loudly bustling around the halls. He had half a mind to use them all, drain their life essence for his own simple experiments, when a rap at the window interrupted his thoughts.

Turning to the side, the Hemomancer groaned at the sight of a massive raven behind the glass. “Beatrice,” he sighed, “no respect for a man's alone time.”

Vladimir rose slowly, moving to the window to crack it open and allow the raven to join him inside. He knew the tapping on the glass panes would not cease until the bird was offered entrance, so he may as well bite the bullet and get the interaction over with.

Beatice swooped in and landed on the back of a chair, cawing in annoyance. The Hemomancer had half a mind to shoo her back out the window and ignore her completely, when she dropped a scroll on his table and soared back out without invitation. Peculiar; typically, the bird stayed around the manor for a few hours, seeming to enjoy disrupting his productivity. Clearly, _something_ made today different.

Picking up the scroll, Vladimir felt a smirk creeping up on to his lips. The Grand General’s acceptance of his invitation was stamped clear and concise onto the parchment. He'd extended the invitation, not expecting a true response. To be given acceptance on such short notice...

This was _excellent._

Moving from the room, Vladimir called out to his servants. “Break out the finest of all we have to offer; the Grand General dines with us tonight.” 

__

The help immediately began bustling around, ensuring every inch of the manor was pristine. The Hemomancer was ecstatic, but had to contain himself and hold composure. If anyone knew the _true_ reason he requested Jericho Swain’s presence…he shook the thoughts from his mind.

__

Now was not a time to fret. It was a time to _indulge._

__


	2. Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Out you get, _Grand General..."_

The carriage bumped along the cobblestone roads of Noxus, Beatrice complaining with every ruffle to her feathers. The Grand General absentmindedly stroked the raven’s head, smoothing out the disturbed plumage until at last, the bird seemed to settle down. He was lost in thought, attempting to uncover Vladimir’s motives. Work and war plan meetings always occurred in his office, so to receive an invitation to the hemomancer’s private estate was practically unheard of.

Beatrice fell from her perch on a particularly harsh bump, releasing an indignant screech that had Swain wincing. The travel time seemed to be unusually long, and it seemed as though his chauffeur was inclined to hit every single dip in the road. The manservant would need to be spoken to later…

However, that statement alone confused the Grand General. Noxus didn’t have the best of roads, but they usually weren’t _this_ bad.

A wave of cold air passed over Swain as all the pieces clicked into place. The abnormally long travel time, bumpy paths, Beatrice’s refusal to calm…they weren’t going to the hemomancer’s estate. A hand on the door of the carriage further solidified the Grand General’s suspicions; locked from the outside. Interesting.

The curtains were drawn, and even though he assumed checking outside would alert him of the carriage’s surroundings and location, the warrior knew better than to notify the betrayers that he was aware of the situation. Best to let them believe the Grand General was stupid and oblivious, as any other nobleperson would be. Now, to plan.

The carriage ride had been approximately ten minutes too long now, which could mean one of three things. Either they were moving somewhere far away, the betrayers were attempting to deceive him with the length of the ride while remaining in the city, or the Grand General was legitimately just being paranoid and they were truly on route for the estate.

There had been the driver, a doorman, and himself when the carriage left his personal territory, but should they end up somewhere unknown, there was no way for the Grand General to tell how many people would be there. He needed to be prepared for a group; there was no way the driver was stupid enough to attempt to take on one of Noxus’ greatest warriors alone.

His thoughts were interrupted as the carriage came to a sharp halt, Beatrice nearly falling over again as she cawed indignantly, shuffling around on her perch. The door of the carriage ripped open a mere few seconds later, and the Grand General found himself face-to-face with his driver. Foolish, the fact that he’d though this servant trustworthy. Looking past the driver, he easily spotted another dozen men, all with various weapons aimed at the carriage. Beatrice let out a squawk, but Swain merely waved a hand and she fell silent.

“Out you get, _Grand General_.” The driver mocked as Swain looked on in silence. “Nice and slow. Don’t cause any trouble now, you hear? We’re gonna take a walk.”


	3. Betrayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stand and fight!"

Swain eyed up the men carefully as he exited the carriage. There were seventeen in all, each of varying heights, weights and builds. Had he been a normal man, he would have found himself _hopelessly_ outnumbered. Fortunately for him, the Grand General was _not_ a normal man, and a dark magic began stirring within him almost immediately, a demon wanting out.

_Not yet…_

The quiet thought had the demon calming for the time being, returning to slumber. However, it would awaken with a simple order should its host request it.

Beatrice cawed in annoyance as the driver shut the door on her, leaving the massive bird trapped within the carriage. Smart man. Anyone with half a brain knew not to let the raven get to the Grand General; not if they wanted a fighting chance. Beatrice was just another pair of eyes, another massive set of claws to rip into enemies; and she was equally feared as many generals of the Noxian army.

The driver sneered as Swain approached the circle of men. “Alright, show us what you’re capable of, _Grand General._ ” he taunted, then tossed a longsword at the ground by Swain’s feet. The Grand General nearly scoffed; surely, they didn’t expect him to use it? One look at the men showed that they indeed expected him to take on all seventeen of them armed with only a lowly sword. Pathetic.

“That’s it, _sir,”_ his driver mocked, moving forward with his own weapon. “Stand and fight!”

The Grand General found himself flocked by all the men then, far too many to take on alone. Beatrice was screeching from within the carriage, the window panes rattling as she fought to escape. Swain closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, even as the men rushed forward to strike lethal, killing blows. When his eyes opened, the crimson of the irises matched that of his demon hand, and Raum was finally set free.

A circle of death in which the demon had control swiped the men to the sides as if they were lowly insects, far below the Grand General. And they _were._ These men, these _worms_ , had no right to speak to him as they had, no right to challenge this mighty warrior of Noxus. Now, Swain would make them pay.

Raum dealt with all seventeen men in mere seconds, many dying from the sheer blast of power from him, others cut down by his claws or continued magic. Finally, sixteen lay dead, the only one left being the driver, heavily bleeding and soon for the grave.

Raum faded back into his host, slumbering once again, as Swain advanced on his betrayer. The driver was dragging himself away from the Grand General, trying to call out for help, though it seemed as though one of his lungs had collapsed. Swain reached down, yanking the pathetic man to his feet with his demon hand. The hand burned, Raum’s own fury making its contribution, the driver trying to scream though not much sound came out.

Swain loomed over the pathetic figure, his hand burning into the worm’s flesh, staring coldly down. Finally, he spoke. “Fear the power you do not see.”

The driver’s eyes went wide, begging for forgiveness, for mercy. Swain tossed the man aside carelessly, letting him bleed on the ground, blood mingling with earth. “Just where a worm like yourself belongs,” he hissed. Making his way back to the carriage, the Grand General ripped the door off with Raum’s strength, Beatrice flapping out to land on his shoulder. Then, he started striding slowly back towards the cowardly betrayer.

The worm’s eyes were darting back and forth; he knew what was coming. He was trying to beg, to plead, and eventually began attempting to end his own life, though Raum’s power stopped him, slowly pulling him back toward the Grand General.

Swain allowed a dark smile to form itself on his features. “You are not a man; you are a worm. And you know what happens to worms.” He gestured to the massive raven, already ruffling her feathers, ready to dive. The man shook his head, still pleading.

A cold, calculated grin. “Dinner time, Beatrice.”

+++

Vladimir paced his sitting room, checking the clock again, likely for the hundredth time. There was no doubt in his mind; the Grand General was late. This was unlike Jericho Swain, typically an extremely punctual man. Perhaps something had gone amiss…

The thought had barely crossed his mind, when a servant came knocking on the door. “My lord,” she called out, “my lord, the Grand General.”

The Hemomancer’s eyes snapped to the door and he moved quickly, opening it and shoving past the girl towards the main entrance of his manor. It was about time. Descending the stairs, Vladimir was fully prepared to make some snide remark about the Grand General’s tardiness, but when he saw the state of the other man, the words died in his throat.

Jericho Swain was a _wreck._

Clothes tattered, hair askew, speckled with dirt and blood, a wince when he moved, Beatrice perched on his shoulder positively _dripping_ with blood…

Vladimir moved forward, verging on panic before he was able to contain himself. Composing and schooling his expression, he forced a smile onto his face. “Grand General,” he greeted, “it looks as though your travels were…less than pleasant.”

Swain nodded, utterly exhausted. “Hemomancer, if you could direct me to your bathing chambers, it would be much appreciated.” The Grand General wasn’t convinced that at least some of the blood on his figure wasn’t his, and definitely needed to check. Vladimir nodded once, before turning to lead the way to his own private chambers. Only the best for the Grand General.


	4. Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Divine,” the Hemomancer drawled, to no one in particular. “This is _perfect.”_

The water cascading down from the shower head was steaming hot, likely burning his skin, though the Grand General couldn’t care less. His assumptions had been correct; several minor wounds on his person had produced small amounts of blood, though now that they were cleaned the whole situation seemed quite a bit more manageable.

Beatrice rested on the top of the shower head, letting out an occasional warble as if reminding Swain that she was still present. He chuckled, moving the flow of water slightly so she could drink from the tap if she wished. The warrior’s mind began to drift then, towards his Hemomancer and the invitation as a whole. The entire afternoon had faded away during his preparation and travel, the sun now sinking below the horizon as they reached a late evening hour. He’d have to make it up to his host.

A sharp knock on the door had his raven releasing a shriek loud enough to make the Grand General wince, even as he called out a gruff, _”What?”_

“Forgive my interruption, Grand General,” Vladimir’s smooth voice entered through the hardwood, “I merely thought you may wish for some more...appropriate garments for when you exited.”

Swain pinched the bridge of his nose, shushing Beatrice as he begrudgingly and silently agreed with the Hemomancer. “Very well; enter then.”

The door opened and the crimson of Vladimir’s cloak came into view, the rest of his image obscured, courtesy of the thick steam in the bathing chamber. The Hemomancer set the clean robes down on the counter, forcing himself to remain civil. What had been thinking, inviting the Grand General here? It was such a risk. He could lose _everything_ if the evening went poorly…

Shoving the thoughts out of his mind, the Hemomancer forced a smile on to his face again. “Grand General, perhaps we should delay our meeting until the dawn? You may need rest.”

“I am more than capable of continuing our discussion tonight, Hemomancer.” Swain was exhausted, but would not allow his mortal body to keep him from defending the strength of Noxus. “I will be a mere few minutes longer, then meet you in the sitting room, if you would.”

A nod and a slight bow from Vladimir. “Of course, my liege.” The latter exited the bathing chambers then, moving quickly in the direction of his largest sitting room, and assigning his staff to various tasks. Soon enough, the cold stone room was highlighted with the soft glow of candlelight and coals from the fire, wine was being fetched and poured, and drapes were being drawn to ensure the utmost privacy.

“Divine,” the Hemomancer drawled, to no one in particular. “This is _perfect.”_

He waved a servant over, the man scurrying to his superior’s side, trembling slightly. Pathetic.

“Go to my private chambers and await the Grand General. Lead him to me, once he is prepared.” The Hemomancer flicked his hand then, a dismissive gesture, sending the man away. Now to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been very busy in real life, and hope to return to a normal writing schedule soon! Thank you to everyone for your support and patience <3


	5. Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Indeed, Grand General. There is much to discuss.”_

The Grand General was beginning to regret his decision to continue the discussions that evening. Now that the threat to his life was over and the blood, sweat and dirt had been cleaned from his skin, exhaustion was beginning to settle in. Waves of fatigue drifted over the man, but he paid them no heed as he exited the bathing chambers and dressed in the attire left by his Hemomancer. The robes were looser fitting than what the Noxian General would normally wear, but the coat accompanying them was divine; a length of fine silk and ruffled feathers, a favourite combination of Jericho Swain’s. His Hemomancer had good taste…

A rap at the door distracted the man for a moment, Beatrice giving a careful squawk from where she’d perched herself near the entrance. A rumble from Raum had the information the Grand General needed: simply a manservant, not a threat.

Swain threw the door open then, startling the poor figure who shook in fear before dropping to the floor at the General’s feet, a low bow of respect framing the shaking body.

“Grand General,” he gasped, remaining on the ground, “I was sent by Lord Vladimir to guide you to his sitting room.”

The Noxian General forced himself to remain civil, not to sneer at the pathetic, whimpering mess before him. “Indeed? Then lead the way.”

The man stumbled to his feet then, bowing low once again before turning quickly and hurrying down the hall. Swain clicked his tongue, Beatrice letting out a warble and dropping down to rest on his shoulder as the pair made their way, assumedly, toward Vladimir’s private office. Paintings of death and Noxian victories adorned the walls, many priceless pieces that would never be recreated. It was becoming more and more apparent that the Hemomancer spared no expense when it came to the luxuries of his home.

Arriving at a sturdy wooden door, the manservant knocked once. Vladimir’s cool voice responded with a simple, “Enter.” The servant fidgeted with the door for a moment before hastily opening it and moving to the side, allowing the Grand General to step over the threshold.  
Scarlet and black candles adorned many surfaces within the sitting room, and a roaring fire cast the area into a soft glow. The Hemomancer himself leaned back against one of the multiple couches, furs and other luxuries sprawled over the back. He stood to greet the Grand General, giving a slight incline of his head.

“Grand General Swain,” he began, flashing those sharp canines, “I am relieved you could join me following the day’s…activities.”

“As am I, Hemomancer.” Swain shook one of Vladimir’s hands, noting the cool temperature of his skin and the lengthened claw-like nails. “You must forgive my tardiness. I will cover your staff’s fees for the evening.”

“There is no need for that, Grand General.” The Hemomancer grinned again as he invited Swain to take a seat. “Having you visit our manor is an honour.”

The general fought the urge to scoff, accepting a glass of wine offered to him by the other man. “Shall we begin our discussion, Hemomancer?”

A sip of wine, a fanged smile, and Vladimir gave a slight nod. “Indeed, Grand General. There is much to discuss.”

~~~

Several glasses of wine later, the moon was setting and the discussions were coming to a close. Overall, the situation of the Noxian army was looking very good. The soldiers were training at a pace that would ensure the replenishment of the force’s depleted numbers, the potions and weapons trade was falling heavily in Noxus’ favour, and the battalions were moving at a steady pace. The arrangements and planning had gone quite well, all things considered, and the Grand General was prepared to set for his manor within the safety of Noxus’ guard.

However, as the night grew darker, it became less and less clear whether or not the route would remain safe, and the likeliness decreased exponentially. Beatrice crowed at every small movement of a servant outside, every rustle of the nearby trees, and her concern was beginning to cause the general to think twice about the trip.

Gathering his belongings, Swain was steeling himself for travel. Raum was not a particularly fast-moving demon, and although the circle would keep the pair secure until they reached the battlements, the Grand General would be exhausted at best when they finally arrived.

“Why, Grand General,” Vladimir’s smooth voice interrupted Swain’s thoughts. “Surely you do not mean to venture out into the darkness?”

The general turned back to face the other man then. “Hemomancer, I must return to the battlements for the security of Noxus…”

“Hush, Grand General.” Vladimir knew he was taking a risk speaking to his superior in such a tone, but the wine was beginning to make his head feel fuzzy. “One night here will get you properly rested up, and then you will be back to your battlements in the early morning, hm?”

Swain hesitated. The trip was very important, but surely a few more hours would do no harm? The wine was beginning to cause its harmful effects, the relaxation and exhaustion curling at the edges of his mind.

Travelling home…was _impossible._

He would not be able to maintain a constant hold on Raum for the duration of the trip, and without the demon, his safety was practically a flip of a coin.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Grand General turned back to the Hemomancer. “Very well,” he finally agreed, “one night.”

In that moment, Swain missed the delighted smile curving up the corners of the Hemomancer’s lips. “Very good, Grand General.” He crooned before calling over a servant to prepare a room.

Everything was going according to his hopes.

Now, to keep them that way…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been very busy in real life, and hope to return to a normal writing schedule soon! Thank you to everyone for your support and patience <3
> 
> I look forward to writing more soon!


End file.
